A Predicament Whilst Hiding-and-Seeking
by shalom378
Summary: A day of supposed fun with Sherlock and Molly turns bad, quickly. Sherlolly :)


**Hey-o, all! So my last few Sherlolly's got very wonderful reviews, so here is another one :) it picks up relatively where 'Cycles of the Heart' ended. ****_Please: if you're going to critique this story, make your comments helpful! _****Tell me what I could have done better, or what I did right, instead of just saying 'it was ok'. Thanks and I love you, reviewers! **

**Also, sad news: I am entering my junior year of high school and will be taking much more rigorous classes, meaning more homework, meaning less FanFiction writing :( I will try as much as possible to write, because I'll go crazy if I don't! Thanks for your continued support and patience this year 3 (P.S. Sorry if this story's a little OOC, bear with it)**

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It is a dull afternoon at 221 Baker street. The curtains in the front room rest sulkily against the sill, and the Great Detective Himself sits in his chair, reading page 11 C of the London Herald.

A fat, caramel-colored cat saunters into the room and hops onto the couch opposite Sherlock. He licks his paw, taking no mind of the man glaring daggers at him. Sherlock ruffles the paper, loudly, and snaps it back into place. The cat simply flicks its ears back for a moment then continues to groom, shedding brown hair onto the leather sofa.

"Molly!" Sherlock calls, exasperated.

She enters the room in a heartbeat, wearing a silky bathrobe and her hair twisted into a towel atop her head. "Yes, Sherlock?"

"Please remove your vain, insipid, destructive feline from my couch." He crosses his slippered feet and returns to the news.

Molly sighs and scoops up the cat, places him outside the apartment door, and shuts it. "Sherlock, you should really try harder to tolerate Wuggins. He's just-"

"I will tolerate nothing with such a degrading name." He turns a page.

Molly Hooper frowns, then mentally shrugs it off and crosses into the kitchen to make tea. "We should do something today," she comments, placing the kettle on the stove.

"Mm," Sherlock replies, uninterested.

"Something besides sitting here reading old case files," she tries again, crossing to stand behind him. Molly wrinkles her nose. "Must you read the obituary every morning? It's really rather morbid." She slides her arms around his chest and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Says the pregnant woman employed at a morgue" is Sherlock's snarky reply.

"We could play a board game. Or… hide and seek?" her voice gains an octave with childish excitement.

"Hide… and seek?"

"Yes!" Molly shifts around the chair and drapes herself across Sherlock's lap, throwing her arms around him and his newspaper. "We could play it right here in the flat! Oh please?"

Sherlock pulls the wrinkled paper from underneath her grasp and sets on the floor with a look of the long-suffering. "If I… play…" he shudders slightly at the primitive word- "with you for a while, will you leave me in peace?"

She gives him a delighted kiss and scampers off to change while Sherlock presses his steepled hands to his lips, locked in his thoughts.

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Sherlock had to admit that although the game was quite primary, watching Molly giggle and hide in such obvious places that it pained him was slightly enjoyable.

"How do you do it?" she asks, breathlessly, as he pulls her out from her hiding spot (the hall closet) for the nth time.

"Your breaths, dear Molly, are that of a loud, angry hippopotamus, and your hiding spots are sloppy at best."

Molly pushes out her lower lip, brooding. "All right, I'll hide again. And this time it'll be good."

Sherlock, ever the patient one, turns away from her and counts aloud to thirty.

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_Every creak of the floor is a dead giveaway. Sherlock follows the slight creases in the rug to the wood flooring of the hallway. A smudge here, a small scratch on the wall there, leads him to the bathroom. The proverbial trail ends. He stiffens up with a creased brow, and squints at the small space. There aren't many places for a four-month-pregnant woman to hide, unless…_

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A crack of light pierces the musty darkness of the cabinet under the sink, and Molly grins. "Three whole minutes, Sherlock! I win." She had folded herself around her distended stomach and crammed into the little crawlspace, careful to shut the door behind her.

"Yes, very good, you've got me. Now come out of there so I can return to my allegedly menial case files." He extends his hand, and she unpeels herself from the tiny space.

One moment she was standing upright and steady with a cocky grin on her face, and the next she is tilting towards the cold tile flooring.

Sherlock catches her, his well-timed reflexes kicking in. "Molly. Molly? What is it?"

Her eyelids flutter against her paling cheeks, and her voice is barely a whisper. "I don't feel so well. I feel… floaty…" her eyes roll back into her head and she slumps against him, limp.

Sherlock cradles her in his arms for a moment, staring in horror at her porcelain skin, and then snaps into action. He scoops her up delicately and murmurs "Hang on, Molly," then fumbles for his phone in his pocket.

"Hello, Sher-?"

"John. John, something's wrong with her. Something's wrong, she won't speak and John, she's not moving-"

"Ok, Sherlock, Sherlock, slow down." John could hear the panic in his voice; only one person could throw Sherlock into hysterics. "Bring Molly over, quickly."

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**Okay that's all I have for now! I'm supposed to be studying for my permit test but phooey to that :P I don't honestly know if I'll write more to this story because it has gotten old and has been sitting on my dash for weeks now. But if I do I'll certainly post it :)**


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